


Return to Sender

by Riley_Sivertsen



Series: random tma fics in the same canon-ish universe [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Emotional Abuse, Insecurities, Isolation, Martin Blackwood Needs a Hug, Martin Blackwood's Mother Is Her Own Warning, Martin Blackwood's Mother's A+ Parenting, Mother-Son Relationship, Other, Past Emotional Manipulation, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, can you tell how much i hate martin's mother, you can fit so much projection into martin blackwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riley_Sivertsen/pseuds/Riley_Sivertsen
Summary: Living in the Institute, Martin hasn't had a chance to visit his mother since this whole thing with Prentiss started. Least he could do was write her a letter. Right?
Series: random tma fics in the same canon-ish universe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037412
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Return to Sender

**Author's Note:**

> Given what we know about their relationship, I couldn’t stop thinking – what was in the letter that Martin didn’t end up sending? It got sad. Enjoy.  
> Rated Teen for swearing, I guess? I dunno.
> 
> This takes place in my canon compliant TMA universe, but you don't have to read the others for this to make sense (though I would be happy if you wanted to!).

Martin stared at the blank page of his notebook.

He was used to staring at blank pages, but this one was worse than usual. He wasn’t trying to fill it with poetic ramblings. Wasn't useing words to make sense of his feelings, put them into something resembling beauty that might make him feel less hopeless.

He took a deep breath and scribbled the first two words at the top of the page.

**_Dear Mum._ **

They glared up at him like his mother’s eyes, silently judging, waiting for him to make a mistake she could belittle or tell him off for.

Martin shook his head. This wasn’t the time, and anyway, he didn’t like thinking like that. Made him feel ungrateful; like she was right. He was just going to write her a letter. No reason to fret. He hadn’t managed to get to the care facility in Devon for a while, and with the worms and sleeping in the institute…travelling didn't feel safe these days.

Martin knew there were options. He could accept Tim’s standing offer of a “road trip”. But then Tim would see Martin right after, and he’d have to pretend he was a good son who’d just had a nice visit with his mum. He couldn’t handle that right now.

So, a letter.

Better than a phone call, because the rejection wasn’t as instant as “I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwood, she doesn’t appear to be up for conversation at the moment” (code for _we tried but she doesn’t want to talk to you_ ). At least the letters took a while before they came back with the familiar “return to sender” stamp. Martin wasn’t sure why he bothered, to be honest. He _knew_ she wasn’t going to read anything from him. Going through this process seemed like an unnecessary exercise in futility and hurt. Yet…

If he didn’t at least try, wasn’t he proving her right? Confirming that he was as lazy and uncaring as she said he was?

Martin picked up his pen and got to work.

_**Dear Mum,** _

_**How are you doing? I know you haven’t felt up to chatting on the phone, but I hope you still have energy to watch your shows and that the staff is taking good care of you.** _

No, she wouldn’t like that. Would think he was patronizing her or something, calling her an old lady with nothing to do but watch the telly all day. She always went on about how Martin should stop treating her like a fragile old lady, especially when he lived with her.

Sure, he had to help her in and out of the bath, but did he have to be so condescending about it? And alright, he needed to keep track of all her meds and meals but he didn’t have to rub it in. And he didn’t need to _tell_ her that she shouldn’t be climbing the stairs by herself, she already knew that from having fallen; no need to keep mocking her for it.

Martin never _tried_ doing those things. He did his best to be respectful and considerate, to allow her as much dignity as possible. It just never came out right. He kept getting it wrong. He was always getting things wrong.

He ripped the paper from his notebook and tried again.

_**Dear Mum,** _

_**Sorry I haven’t been around lately. Things have been really crazy at work and I lost my phone for two weeks.** _

No, that was worse. She hated when he made excuses. It always made her mood worse. It was bad enough when he came late home, but did he have to blame it on the bus? Or the two pharmacies that were out of her medicine? Or the long line at the grocery store?

Why couldn’t he just admit that he should have planned better? He could never handle responsibility, didn’t take the time to think things through properly. Proved that, didn’t he, climbing through the basement window?

Martin tore out the page.

_**Dear Mum,** _

_**You couldn’t take my last few call, I thought maybe you haven’t been feeling up to a chat so figured a letter might be nice! Don’t worry, I promise not to write any poetry in here.** _

Wait, that was no good, either. She got so hostile when he said anything self-deprecating. Even when it was something she’d already said, she accused him of trying to get her to pity him. He _agreed_ with her that the tea could have been seeped longer. The food _could_ have used more salt, he should have thought of that. His poetry _was_ fairly bad and he shouldn’t have bothered her with it.

Every time he agreed with her, she would snort derisively like he was putting on a bad show. _Here come the crocodile tears,_ she’d say. _If you can’t handle being treated like an adult, you can go to your room like the useless child you are._

Martin wiped at his eyes before the stupid tears could start. He sniffed and tilted his head back, staring up at the stained ceiling for several seconds until he’d gathered himself. Then he ripped out the paper and stared at the new, blank page.

If nothing he ever did was good enough, why not try something new? Something outrageous? Why not try to be straightforward and tell her the truth? It was worth a shot, at least.

His grip on the pen tightened as he put it to paper.

**_Dear Mum,_ **

**_Sorry it’s been a while. Some bad things happened and I got locked in my flat for a while without my phone. I’m better now, but I have to sleep in the archives for my own safety. Don’t worry; everything will be alright soon enough._ **

**_It’s difficult, though. I’m used to being on my own, but without any of my familiar things around, everything feels a bit more lonely. Everyone is being really good to me, though! Checking in that I’m alright. Jon – my boss, remember? – he’s doing what he can to make sure it’s safe down here, and Tim and Sasha are really good at keeping me company when they can. It can’t be much fun for them, but I appreciate the gesture._ **

**_I feel bad for causing all of this trouble. I brought it on myself, really, and I worry that if the others find out I’ve been lying about…Well, I doubt they’d have as much sympathy for me if they knew how I got here._ **

**_Not that I regret it! I’m glad we got you a place down there, where you can be comfortable. I really hope you’re doing alright. I do worry about you a bit, even if you don’t want me to. I just want to make sure you’re doing well, that they’re treating you right. I know how it is to feel like you’re all on your own, and I hope you don’t have to feel like that._ **

**_I love you, mum. I’ll try to come down for a visit a soon as things calm down here._ **

**_Regards--_ **

Martin stared down at the letter for a long time, skimming the lines over and over. The gnawing pain in his chest grew with every word he read.

_Fuck._

Martin slammed the notebook shut and threw it down on the cot beside him. What was he even doing? Why did he bother? It wasn’t like she was even going to _read_ the stupid letter, let alone appreciate it his honesty! She didn’t _want_ to hear how Martin was doing because she didn’t _care_. All she cared about was that he wasn’t her problem anymore. That she didn’t have to deal with him every single day. He was someone else’s burden now.

This whole thing was nothing more than a hopeless attempt at connecting with someone who wanted nothing from him. Martin got enough of that from Jon; he didn’t need to invite more of it from his mother than he’d already got.

He shoved the notebook underneath his pillow and got up. He needed a cup of tea.

Something warm and comforting.

Something he could do right.

The following weekend, Martin did end up accepting Tim’s offer for a trip to Devon. At least that way he didn’t have to look at the physical evidence of his mother’s rejection in the form of another envelope with an angry, red stamp reading “return to sender”. And Tim was nice about it. Turned the music up and pretended he didn’t notice Martin crying most of the way home.

The letter ended up sitting in his notebook where, hopefully, it could stay forgotten. Maybe when Martin found it again, he would be in a better place. Maybe it would even inspire a poem.

He really hadn’t accounted for a nosy Archivist getting to it first.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments joy to my heart and do wonders for my mental wellbeing, if you want to leave them ♥️
> 
> You can come shriek at me about multiple fandoms on tumblr @mx-riley and I hope you're being kind and taking care of yourself in these hard times. Did you take your meds today? 😘


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